The Witch's Chamber
by Blondie47
Summary: Constance found the chamber under the library sooner than Griselda and Fenella did and made it her own. 3x01 - Secret Society HB/Drill One-shot; inspired by Shakespeare


_Love looks not with eyes, but with the mind. ~ Midsummer's Night Dream, William Shakespeare_

Constance was sitting with her legs curled under her, leaning against the soft arm of the sofa. She enjoyed the quiet afternoon with her favorite book about the ancient witchcraft. The room was filled with old books – and for the witch, there was nothing more relaxing than reading surrendered by the smell of old pages with a premise of a powerful magic. The candles filled in for the lack of sunlight, making the place warm and reminding her of her younger years at the witch training college when her nights were spent in a similar manner – only the books were for her studies rather than pleasure. The curtains hanging behind her were heavy with dust, however she did not mind at all. The smell of dust was, after all, the smell of the past. And for Constance, there was nothing she loved more than the past.

Those were the times where people called each other strictly by their last names – making their given name sound so special when said by your loved one. The times where girls learnt discipline and etiquette and listened to the greatest composers the world has ever heard rather than the pop rubbish the girls nowadays seemed to enjoy so much. Rules were obeyed and punishments carried out with no single complain about such silly things as human rights. Everybody knew their place and everything was in the right order. For the traditionalist that she certainly was it sounded like utopia.

The witch brought her finger to her mouth, wetting it a little and turned to the next page. Taking it the beauty of the written words, comfortably sitting on the sofa and enjoying the unusual silence around her she felt truly grateful that she had discovered this place. There were not many places like this in the castle, in fact, she only knew about three other secret chambers. One of them was below the bathrooms but couldn't be used for anything due to the dampness and leaking ceiling. Another one was already being used by Amelia as her personal kitchen where she stored all her precious cakes and sweets. The third one was used for storing important and dangerous documents the girls were not permitted to find out about. And then there was this one – a long forgotten chamber full of books and wonders. Constance wondered what it was used for in the past and assumed it was for hiding books that were to be burnt and destroyed, such as the volume of ancient spells she was now reading. The room was her little secret, the place where her thoughts did not have to be disturbed by the cries of Sybil Hallow or the laughter of Mildred Hubble and her friends. It was the place where Constance Hardbroom felt truly at home and safe, guarded by the stone walls of the Academy.

Well, of course, there was one more little detail.

"I know you are there, Imogen Drill, I can hear you thinking about sneaking up at me."

A playful smile appeared on her lips, her brown eyes never leaving the book. She felt a presence behind her followed by two warm hands sliding down her shoulders and around her neck. The newcomer pressed a little kiss on the top of her head and looked down.

"_Veneficus iacio a validus alica quod socius mortuus_." she read in an accent that made the brunette wince.

"Latin, Constance?"

"Latin indeed, my dear."

Imogen could see how much the witch loved the dead language simply by the calm tone of voice she used. She smiled at the realization how well she knew invincible woman. She let go of the potions mistress for a moment, encircling the sofa and sat down next to her.

No words were needed at that moment. Constance kept reading her book, adjusting her position a little so she could lean against Imogen, her back against the blonde's chest and the top of her bun brushing her cheek. The younger woman did not seem to mind and put her right arm under Constance's, letting it rest on the witch's stomach.

The two of them stayed like that for the rest of the evening, only leaving when Imogen saw her lover fall asleep in her arms. For Constance Hardbroom, it was the afternoon she would remember for the rest of her life. She felt truly loved, wholly and completely for who she was.


End file.
